


i wouldn’t leave you if you’d let me

by adelaidebabe (soulless_slut)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (not lovers like making love tho), 5+1 Things, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Minor Lydia Martin/Malia Tate, Sciles Secret Santa 2016, Stiles has abandonment issues, Worried McCall Pack, Worried Scott McCall, character with anxiety, just a tad, so in love and they don't even KNOW, these dumb boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 09:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8743774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulless_slut/pseuds/adelaidebabe
Summary: “Scott closes his locker and turns to leave, to go to homeroom, when Kira grabs his bicep and turns him back around. ‘Scott,’ she says, seriously. ‘It’ll be okay.’
Scott nods and tries to smile, but he’s not sure if it works.”
or: 5 Times The Pack Noticed Something Was Wrong With Stiles +1 Time Someone (Scott) Did Something About It





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladybug114](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybug114/gifts).



> okay, okay, so this is my submission for sciles secret santa 2016! i’m actually kind of happy with this fic and i’m also super happy that i got it to 6k, like that’s a big accomplishment for me. i don’t wanna ramble too much up here so expect a bullet list in the end notes. title is from trouble by halsey (yes i know it’s about an abusive relationship, but it was the only title on the list of titles that really spoke to me). this is unbeta’d but i did look it over a little bit. i hope you enjoy this, giftee!

5.

Liam comes to him one day. It’s a nice day; weeks leading up to it have been peaceful, so Scott is unsurprised when Liam stops by, his face concerned, biting his lip, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It was only a matter of time.

He thinks that maybe something happened, something supernatural, but when he asks Liam, the boy shakes his head. He still looks nervous, but Scott has no idea why else he would be. So he invites him in, pushing him toward the couch, and then makes him sit down. Liam’s still biting his lip and he almost looks as if he’s retreating into his body, trying to make himself smaller.

“What’s wrong?” Scott asks, beginning to feel dread pool in his stomach. The longer he sits with Liam, the more the apprehension grows.

“It’s about Stiles,” Liam says, halting. Now that Scott’s looking at him more carefully, instantly on alert because it’s about _Stiles_ , something happened to _Stiles_ , he can tell that Liam isn’t exactly panicking—so Scott’s heart calms just a little bit, and the urge to to run out of the house and jump on his bike recedes. Not a lot, because it’s about Stiles, but just enough that if Liam’s trying to pick up on his emotions, he doesn’t freak him out.

“Is he okay?” Scott asks. Liam hasn’t said anything else, and that in itself is nerve wracking. “He’s not bleeding out somewhere, right?”

Liam shakes his head. “No, no, he’s. He’s—” He stops again, and Scott tries his hardest to not Alpha-eye Liam into spitting it out. “You told us to look out for him. Emotionally.”

“Yeah,” Scott says. “I remember, Liam.”

When he first had asked them all to do it, it was before everything had happened. Long before that fight—The Fight. The Big Fight—before Liam killed him, before all that. But after everything that happened, Scott reminded them all that he still needed them to do it. Possibly especially because of everything that had happened. He wasn’t around Stiles twenty-four-seven, and a pack looks out for each other. (Apparently Stiles needed more looking after, but Scott wasn’t reading too much into his own reasoning.)

So far, nothing was too much out of the ordinary. Stiles seemed fine. Scott noticed a little bit of anxiety, but nothing too far from normal.

Liam coming to him now is the first time any of them have felt the need to bring whatever it is up with Scott. So the whole Scott’s-heart-calming?

Yeah, not so much now.

Liam’s biting his lip again. “I don’t really think it’s anything, but I don’t want it to be something and having never told you.” He pauses. “I’ve noticed a pattern. In Stiles’s anxiety.”

“What kind of pattern?”

Liam licks his lips. Scott has no idea why the kid needs to keep stalling instead of just telling him what it is already. “It’s,” he starts, hesitating yet again. “It…increases whenever…whenever you’re around him.”

The hesitating suddenly makes sense.

But what Liam said does not make sense.

“Wait,” Scott says, closing his eyes. He tries to make sense of that, but it just doesn’t. “What?”

Liam shifts. “I swear, I ruled out everything else first. I tried to see if it was the time of day, the place, or anyone else in the pack. But you were the only consistent factor.” He shrugs and finally Scott can identify the look in his eyes: helpless. “I said I really didn’t think it was anything but I didn’t want….” He trails off.

Liam doesn’t say it and Scott doesn’t say it, but he think he knows how Liam was going to finish that. He knows how jumpy Liam’s been since the event, how nervous and worried.

_I didn’t want to disappoint you._

Scott has tried to reassure Liam, has tried to mend their relationship, but he’s beginning to think the only thing that can fix it is time.

“Alright,” he says. He stands up and Liam follows suit. “I’ll figure it out, Liam. Thank you.”

Liam nods and walks to the door, glancing back at Scott once. Scott tries to smile at him reassuringly, give him a nod, but he doesn’t know if Liam takes any comfort from it.

Scott kind of hates himself for it, but he can’t focus on Liam too much; he has Stiles to worry about now, too. Liam, he knows, will come with time.

Stiles’s anxiety getting worse is something he’ll have to figure out how to deal with. Somehow.

4.

He thinks about it, for days. Trying to figure out what it means, why Stiles would be extra anxious around him. He can’t think of any reason but for one, but he dismisses it right away.

Even though he focuses on it now because of Liam, he doesn’t really see a change in Stiles’s anxiety. Not that he thinks Liam is lying or wrong or something, but he should be able to tell that Stiles’s anxiety is heavier if it is. But he can’t and he doesn’t know what that means.

He’s studying in the library the next week, words blurring together because he’s been there since school ended, determined to at least get a ninety on his next Bio test. Stiles left him almost an hour ago, which makes it about five when Malia walks up to his table and drops her books.

He doesn’t startle because he’s a werewolf and Alpha at that.

(Except he totally does because he’d been so focused on highlighting that he’d tuned everything out.)

She smiles at him and Scott hopes she isn’t about to ask him for homework help. That’s so much more Lydia’s expertise.

She sits downs and says, “I need to talk to you,” without prompting and so very matter-of-factly.

Scott closes his book because who is he kidding? He had started doing Stiles’s method of highlighting, which is highlighting everything and really no help. Malia still looks like she’s waiting for permission so Scott says, “About what?”

“Stiles.”

He pretends it doesn’t happen, but his heart skips. Whether it’s with worry because this is the second time someone has come to him about Stiles, or with some weird form of disappointment because maybe Malia and Stiles are getting back together, Scott doesn’t know. So, pretending it didn’t happen is the way to go.

Malia’s eyes flash with recognition, but she doesn’t say anything. Scott is vaguely thankful.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Malia seems to hesitate, and Scott really wishes everyone would stop doing that. “He’s acting weird. I don’t know exactly how, but it’s weird. And he smells scared. Often. More than usual.”

“It’s called anxiety,” Scott explains, and Malia says a soft, “Oh, yeah, he told me about that,” before Scott continues. “You’re sure it’s more than usual?”

She nods, firm, decisive.

Scott’s stomach sinks, but he nods back and tries to keep his expression pleasant. “Okay. I’ll figure it out, Malia, thank you.”

(It’s the exact same thing he said to Liam and he still hasn’t figured it out, but.)

Malia smiles again and says, “Good.” She picks her books back up and stands, beginning to walk away. And then she turns around. “You should go home and take a break. Lydia told me it’s important to take frequent but small breaks when studying,” she says, and again it’s so matter-of-fact that Scott feels like it has to be practically verbatim. She nods and then turns again, walking out of his view.

Scott smiles even though she can’t see him. He decides that she’s right—Lydia’s right—and packs up his stuff, putting it all back into his backpack. He checks his phone, about to stand up, and then he stops. Maybe he should call Stiles. Ask him if everything’s okay, offer to play videogames with no school talk allowed.

He holds down the speed dial for Stiles’s number.

It rings, and rings, and rings, and rings, before going to voicemail. Scott makes a face and leaves, “Hey, Stiles. Just curious as to what you’re up to because I think I need a giant school break. Call me back, okay?”

He sighs but leaves the library, waving to Mrs. Jensen on his way out. He gets a text from his mother right before he gets on his bike, asking him to pick up something for dinner when he’s on his way home because she’s too tired to do anything but nap. He texts back a smiley face and she sends a heart.

Scott feels a stupid amount of affection for his mother fill him up, and he decides to buy her favorite takeout, even though he can honestly take it or leave it.

She kisses his forehead when he gets home before taking her food back into her room. He likes to think she’s going to eat all of it, but he knows she’ll take maybe two bites before falling asleep and maybe two more bites when she wakes up in two hours to go back to work. He’ll have to remember to stop by the hospital in the morning before he goes to school to bring her some breakfast.

He goes upstairs with his food and watches Netflix until he falls asleep.

It’s not until the next morning that he realizes Stiles never called him back.

3.

As he’s getting ready for school, though, Stiles texts him.

hey. sorry about last night, had a lot of stuff going on. rain check? [from stiles; 6:36]

Sure [to stiles; 6:37]

Scott knows his response seems passive aggressive, and he doesn’t mean for it to, but he’s beginning to actually be worried. Because he’s got Liam’s words playing in his head, and Malia’s words playing in his head, and it now feels like Stiles was avoiding him.

Which is ridiculous because they had hung out yesterday; at the library, studying.

But that was all they had done. Scott reading and highlighting for Bio, Stiles possibly reading and highlighting—Scott hadn’t been paying too much attention, so, honestly, there was a chance Stiles hadn’t been doing anything school related. Scott asked him to quiz him twice before Stiles left.

Sure, it wasn’t their usual hanging out, but they were still together. Stiles isn’t avoiding him.

Right?

His phone buzzes and Scott reaches for it quickly, thinking it could be another text from Stiles. Instead, it’s a text from Kira.

I need to talk to you today [from kira; 6:49]

Wait that sounded bad [from kira; 6:49]

It’s not bad I swear [from kira; 6:49]

Scott smiles despite the stress he’s beginning to feel.

I understood. My locker before school? [to kira; 6:50]

Awesome [from kira; 6:51]

Cool, I mean [from kira; 6:51]

Cool plan [from kira; 6:51]

Scott laughs a little before dropping his phone back on his bed to finish getting ready. He has an inkling that what Kira needs to tell him is about Stiles—which seems a little ridiculous, Malia just came to him the night before—and it’s not helping his stress levels. The fact that Stiles is possibly avoiding him also isn’t helping.

Because how can he try to notice what everyone else is noticing if Stiles isn’t around?

But if Stiles isn’t around, doesn’t that prove them right? That something’s wrong?

The overthinking is beginning to hurt his head.

Scott decides to put it out of his mind until he talks with Kira because he still needs to eat breakfast and get something to bring to his mom. He looks at himself in his bathroom mirror as he buttons up his shirt. Breathes deep. Gives himself a nod. It’ll be okay.

He’ll figure it out.

Kira’s already at his locker when he gets to school and now he can’t help but feel like he was running late.

She straightens when she sees him. Waves.

Scott gives a tight lipped smile and a nod. His heart is beginning to pound and he hates that he can’t control his stress levels. “Hey,” Scott says when he gets to his locker. She moves a bit out of the way so he can spin in his combination. “What’s going on?”

Kira bites her lip and sighs, heavily. “Okay, so, you told us to watch out for Stiles and if anything worried us to come to you, right?” Scott nods, but he feels like it wasn’t necessary because Kira just keeps talking without looking at him. “Right, so I thought it was nothing because Stiles is just always twitchy, but it’s weird. It’s. When he thinks none of us are around or he’s alone, he’s extra fidgety. But he goes back to normal when any of us are around him except for, well, you.”

“What does he do when I’m around?”

She bites her lip again. “I don’t know if it means anything, but he just stops. Which isn’t normal, either, and I know that it’s not like he’s stopped being anxious. I think it’s so bad that he can’t—can’t really move.” She glances around and then murmurs, “I’m sure it doesn’t really have anything to do with you, but I’m—”

“Worried,” Scott finishes, his heart sinking.

Kira nods. Her expression is a mix of sadness and worry, and Scott can tell it’s not all for Stiles. She’s worried about him, too.

“Thanks, Kira,” he says. He doesn’t think his voice is as reassuring as it was for Liam and Malia, but there’s not really anything Scott can do about that. His pack keeps coming to him to tell him that Stiles gets more anxious when Scott is around. How can he be reassuring about that? “I’ll look into it.”

He closes his locker and turns to leave, to go to homeroom, when Kira grabs his bicep and turns him back around. “Scott,” she says, seriously. “It’ll be okay.”

Scott nods and tries to smile, but he’s not sure if it works. Kira lets go of him and he goes to homeroom.

2.

He totally bombs his Bio test. All of his studying just disappears from his mind and he blanks. He keeps trying to remember what he knows he remembers, but all he can think about is Stiles. Is Stiles okay, is Stiles mad at him, is Stiles keeping something from him, is Stiles this, is Stiles that.

His brain is just circling Stiles over and over again, repeating what Liam said, what Malia said, what Kira said. It tries to tell him that Stiles hates him, that Stiles doesn’t want to be his friend, but Scott shoves both those thoughts into a box to be ignored.

(It also tries to tell him that Stiles is anxious for _other reasons_ , but he shoves that into a box, too.)

When the bell rings to signify the end of the period, Scott is ready to kiss his first college choice goodbye because he can’t pass one simple test.

He hands in his paper like everyone else and the teacher gives him a look with sympathy, a look Scott has never seen from her before. He almost thinks that either a) she’s not looking at him, or b) she’s been body snatched, but that second option is so much more Stiles that Scott can’t support it alone. He walks out of the room, thinking up ways to ask for bonus points when his test comes back with an F.

He doesn’t look where he’s going, so used to either being able to hear people close to him or for other people to be looking out for him, that he bumps into Stiles and nearly sends him sprawling—if it hadn’t been for Scott’s quick reflexes, resulting in him grabbing Stiles’s arm before he can fall.

When Scott pulls him closer to make sure he’s not still going to fall, it’s a bit closer than Scott had anticipated. Their feet are touching and they’re nearly chest to chest.

This close, Scott can understand what Liam meant about Stiles’s anxiety increasing. It’s so much heavier than it’s ever been since Scott became a werewolf. He lets go of Stiles’s arm and takes a small step back, but Stiles seems frozen.

“Stiles?”

He looks up from the floor, from whatever his eyes had been focusing on, and smiles. But it looks like an overly practiced smile, the type of smile Stiles would give because he knew it was expected of him. “Hey, Scotty,” he says. “Thanks.”

Scott smiles back, quick, and knows that his isn’t anymore real than Stiles’s. He wants to grab Stiles’s arm, pull him somewhere to talk, but he’s afraid. Afraid to touch Stiles again. Liam’s and Malia’s and Kira’s words and worries are playing in his head, and Scott doesn’t know what to do.

“Are you okay?” Scott asks, low, trying to keep this conversation as private as he can in the middle of a school hallway.

Something flashes in Stiles’s eyes, but it’s gone before Scott can focus on it. “Absolutely,” he says. “I’m sorry about flaking last night, maybe something tomorrow night, yeah?” He gives Scott a nod and takes his lack of answer as an answer. He turns and disappears into the mass of people, and Scott feels panic grip at his heart. He doesn’t fully know why.

But he knows Stiles is lying to him, even if his heart stays steady.

“Stiles,” Scott calls after him, trying to following him into the crowd. He finds him before he can enter his next class, and this time Scott doesn’t let his fear get the best of him. He grabs Stiles’s arm and pulls him to him.

They’re nose to nose only for a second, but Stiles’s pupils widen and the anxiety still somehow becomes heavier. When they separate, Stiles stares at something above Scott’s head. “Stiles,” Scott says again, wishing that Stiles would look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Stiles shake his head, pouts his lips. “Nothing,” he says with a lazy shrug. “I’m absolutely fine, Scotty, you don’t have to keep asking me every five seconds.”

For some reason, Scott feels a flash of hurt. “I know,” he says. “I just— I worry about you.”

Stiles’s blasé attitude falters for a moment. When it comes back, it’s weak. “I have to go to class, Scott,” Stiles says, jerking a thumb to point behind him.

“Right,” Scott says. “Okay. I’ll see you after school.”

Stiles nods, but doesn’t agree. Scott has a feeling he’ll disappear before Scott can find him.

When Stiles walks into the room, Mason pops up next to Scott. “What’s going on with him?” he asks, and Scott wants to rip a locker off it’s hinges.

“I’ll figure it out,” Scott says. He pats Mason’s shoulder and walks toward his class, uncaring that the bell is probably about to ring and he’ll be late. Even Mason noticed something being wrong with Stiles.

Why did it take Scott so long?

1.

It’s Friday night and despite Stiles telling him that they’d hang out, Scott hasn’t been able to get ahold of him. Every text has gone unanswered, every phone call gone to voicemail.

It would worry him more if Stiles wasn’t already avoiding him. But, honestly, he feels like he’s maxed out on worry. So he grabs a bag of chips from the cupboard and sits in front the TV in the living room, flipping through channels. Nothing interests him and all he really wants to do is hang out with Stiles, watching a movie or playing video games.

Hell, he’ll settle for watching _Star Wars_ finally if it means being able to hang out with Stiles.

(Yes, he still hasn’t watched it, but he has a reason. He won’t tell Stiles because he doesn’t want to hurt him, but it’s because he’s a Trekkie. _Star Wars_ , honestly, doesn’t hold any interest to him.)

Mid-channel flip, someone knocks. Scott rolls up the chip bag and dusts his hands on his pants as he stands up. He tries to pretend he’s not hoping it’s Stiles, but he is.

The person knocks again.

When he opens the door, he’s not greeted with Stiles, but Lydia. Confused, Scott doesn’t say anything, his mouth partly open.

Lydia rolls her eyes and says, “Yes, Scott, I’d love to come in, thank you.” She manages to move him out of the way enough to pass by him and into his house. Scott shuts the door and turns to find Lydia standing in the living room with her back to him.

He clears his throat. Lydia turns to face him, eyebrows up. “Is something wrong, Lydia?” he asks because he really can’t think of a reason Lydia would be at his house on a Friday night without prior plans being made.

But instead of dismissing his question, Lydia purses her lips.

Lead solidifies in Scott’s stomach again. “Is it about Stiles?” he asks.

Lydia inclines her head. “In part,” she says. She shrugs one shoulder. “It’s also about you.”

Scott furrows his brow. “About me?”

An amused smile graces Lydia’s lips. She sits down on the couch, setting her purse on the floor and crossing her ankles. Scott thinks she looks like she’s ready to lead a business discussion. “Obviously you know that Stiles is acting weird, more so than usual.”

Scott sits back in the chair he had previously occupied. “Yeah, I mean, everyone has come to me about it. So I know.”

Lydia gives him a look. “That’s it? You know, and that’s it?”

Scott doesn’t say anything, afraid of saying the wrong thing now.  She sounds almost accusing, like she thinks he doesn’t care, or that he’s acting like he’s doesn’t.

“Scott, it’s Friday night. Why aren’t you with Stiles?”

Scott ignores the urge to shrug. “He hasn’t texted me back. Or called me back.” Lydia gives him a look that says, _So?_ “I’m— I’m trying to figure out what to do.”

She purses her lips again and squints her eyes at him. Scott’s beginning to feel like he’s only operating on half the information. “What’s there to figure out?” she finally says. “Stiles needs you, but is denying your help. So stop giving him the chance.”

“How do I do that?”

“Honestly, Scott, do you really need my help? Go to his house, tell him you're not leaving until you talk.”

She states it like it’s obvious. Scott’s just afraid Stiles is going to shut the door in his face.

“Lydia—”

“No,” Lydia says, shaking her head. “I don’t want to hear any excuses, I want you to go to Stiles. Besides,” she adds, standing up, “I have a date with Malia that I’d rather not be late for.”

“Wait, Malia?” Scott says, also standing up. He follows Lydia to the door. “Like, our Malia, Malia?”

She lightly shrugs one shoulder and smiles, an oddly sincere smile. “Okay, so it’s not technically a date because Malia’s idea of a date is hunting for deer and I told her that I adamantly refuse to do that. We’re studying, but I think it’ll turn into a date before the night’s over.” She winks.

Scott decidedly does not think about the implications of that.

Lydia opens the front door and stops, turning around to face Scott again. Her eyes are soft and Scott feels some strange surge of affection for Lydia Martin. He can’t imagine, years ago, her ever looking at him so softly, with affection in her eyes—not only for him, but Stiles as well. He can’t imagine, years ago, her ever voluntarily talking to him and giving him advice, caring about him. He can’t imagine, years ago, her being so kind.

But that’s Lydia Martin. And the thing is, she’s always been like this. Kind, surprisingly sweet, caring and loving toward her friends. But it was hidden, probably due to her parents’ failed marriage and her desire to be, well, desired and perfect.

So Lydia, with her soft eyes and her soft smile, touches Scott’s upper arm. “Talk to Stiles, Scott,” she says. “I’m serious.” Then she cups his face. “I can’t stand seeing you both miserable.”

_I’m not miserable_ , Scott’s about to say, but the words die in his mouth. There’s no point because Lydia’s already turning back around and walking out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

+1.

Scott calls Stiles one last time.

He still doesn’t answer.

So Scott writes a note for his mom and sticks it on the fridge, telling her that he’ll be at Stiles’s if she gets home before he does. Then he gets on his bike and rides.

The only light on at the Stilinski house is Stiles’s bedroom light, meaning that either the Sheriff is asleep or still at the station. Scott’s belief is the latter. He parks his bike off to the side of the road in front of the house, and dismounts. He thinks about knocking on the front door, but determines that either Stiles won’t hear it or he’ll ignore it.

So Scott jumps and climbs until he’s on the roof outside Stiles’s window. He sees Stiles on his bed, either sleeping or just lying there, thinking.

It’s more likely the thinking.

Bracing himself, Scott taps lightly on the window, hoping to not startle Stiles too bad. It’s no use, though, as Stiles still jumps a bit and rolls his body on his bed so he can look out the window. The tension in his shoulders lessens when he sees it’s Scott, relieved that it’s not someone or some _thing_ else.

He gets up and opens the window, which Scott is happy for because it means Stiles is inviting him in, even if it’s via window.

Stiles is sitting on his bed when Scott finishes maneuvering his way through the open window space, closing it after.

Stiles’s leg is twitching. Scott wishes he could not notice it.

“What’s up, Scotty?” Stiles asks, but his voice is weird. Off.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Scott says, sitting down on the bed next to him. “You’re avoiding me.”

“I am—” Stiles stops his immediate objection, his voice faltering under the look Scott gives him. “Okay, so I am,” he says, low and soft. “But it’s not, like, a conscious ‘I’m avoiding Scott today,’ it’s more of ‘My phone keeps going off and I’m just going to ignore it’ kind of thing.”

“Sure,” Scott says, not believing a word out of Stiles's mouth. Even if his heartbeat is even. He waits a moment, leaving them in silence. Gradually, Stiles’s leg stops moving, and Scott can see some of the stress leave Stiles as his shoulders slump and he flops back on his bed. Scott entertains the idea of lying down next to him, but he’s worried that’ll stress Stiles out again and he wants to keep Stiles anxiety-free as much as possible at the moment.

Because maybe if Stiles isn’t as anxious, he’ll talk to Scott, open up about what’s wrong.

Stiles sighs. “Maybe it is a little ‘I’m avoiding Scott today.’”

Scott contemplates looking back at Stiles, but figures that not only would that be slightly uncomfortable, it might be easier for Stiles to talk if Scott’s eyes aren’t on him.

It takes him a bit, but eventually Scott manages to ask, “Why’re you avoiding me?”

Stiles sighs again. It sounds deep and painful, maybe a bit ragged, and Scott wishes Stiles didn’t bottle so much. Wishes Stiles didn’t feel like he _had_ to bottle. There’s movement, but Scott doesn’t look back, afraid of breaking this possible confession. When Stiles speaks, it’s muffled. “I’m afraid.”

Scott stops breathing.

It’s only for a second, but his breath catches in his throat and his heartbeat floods his ears. Werewolf hearing or not, he can’t hear anything outside of his own, loud heartbeat. He doesn’t say anything, not sure what to say or what Stiles is expecting him to say.

But not saying anything seems to be the right choice because Stiles starts talking again. Scott focuses on his words, trying to calm his heart from being so loud. “After our fight—” He cuts himself off. “We’re graduating, Scott,” he says, and it sounds like he’s pleading. Trying to get Scott to understand. “I know you’re going to end up at UC Davis. If I want, I don’t even have to leave. I don’t know what I’m doing, Scott, I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I don’t know—” He cuts himself off again, exhaling harshly through his nose. “I used to think that we were indestructible, but after that—that _stupid_ fight, I don’t—”

The guilt eating at Scott is painful and merciless, but he moves his hand to rest on Stiles’s knee anyway. Part of him wishes he was touching Stiles’s skin so he could at least try to take some of Stiles’s pain, even if he technically can’t because it’s emotional. “Stiles,” Scott says, softly, still unsure because they may be best friends, but there’s always been this weakness that Stiles never really let Scott see. He got a glimpse of it when Stiles’s mom died—and when Stiles attacked him at the hospital; he’s caught smaller glimpses of it throughout recent years as the stress of the supernatural got to him. To have Stiles expose himself like this, it feels risky and threatening.

But Scott can also admit that it almost feels good; almost heady, not quite, but definitely overwhelming. Because Scott is finally seeing that final facet in Stiles’s personality, has finally earned that right. He almost hates that it’s taken so long, that it’s taken until Stiles is actively avoiding him because of anxiety, but Scott’s an optimist.

Better late than never.

“Stiles,” Scott repeats, stronger. “I’m not leaving you.”

There’s a pause, and then Stiles says, “What are you talking about, of course you are, you’re going to UC Davis—”

Scott squeezes Stiles’s knee, just a bit. “I know,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you.” He wants to pause, to collect his thoughts, but he’s afraid if he does for too long, Stiles will talk instead. And, for once, that’s not what he’s aiming for. “I just needed time after our fight. I needed to think and breathe, but I was never going to let it just end like that, Stiles.” He does pause this time, hopes that Stiles will sense that he’s not done. “I’m not saying that I was completely in the wrong, or that you were. Just…it was a lack of proper communication, and even when I still thought you killed Donovan without a reason, I wasn’t leaving you.”

He thinks, _I love you_ , but figures he should try to keep this to one conversation at a time.

“Going to different colleges doesn’t change anything,” he continues. “You’re still my best friend and you’re still the person I want most in life.”

Which kind of sounds like a love confession, but if Stiles doesn’t say anything then neither will Scott.

There’s a long silence and Scott uses it to focus on Stiles’s heartbeat. It’s surprisingly calm, steady in a way that Scott hasn’t heard in a while. He doesn’t detect any anxiety, either—at least, no more than usual—and can’t help but hope that maybe he alleviated whatever was bothering Stiles.

Quietly, Stiles says, “I don’t like doubting our relationship.”

There’s an undercurrent of _something_ beneath his words, something that Scott can’t figure out. So he pretends he doesn’t notice and decides to lie back next to Stiles like how he was afraid to before. “I don’t like you doubting it either,” Scott says after he settles. Debating, finally he tacks on, “It feels like you’re doubting me.”

He can hear Stiles swallow. “I’d never doubt you, Scotty. It’s me, I keep feeling like I’m going to fuck up again.”

“You never fucked up to begin with so there’d be no again.”

Stiles lets out a quick, disbelieving laugh. “I threw you to the ground,” he says. “I think that qualifies as fucking up.”

After they sit in silence for a moment, Scott asks, “What are you afraid of, Stiles?”

“I already told you,” Stiles says. Scott doesn’t say anything. Eventually, Stiles rubs his hand over his face. “Losing you,” he mumbles out. “I already had to live through it once and I don’t want to do it again. I’m avoiding you because if we lose contact after graduation, I mean, it won’t hurt as much.”

There’s something just off, something that he can tell Stiles isn’t telling him.

“Do you really believe that?”

Stiles is silent before slowly shaking his head.

Scott breathes in. “Even if we were to lose contact, my mom still lives here, you know. I’d still be coming back, even if it wasn’t for you. But I will be coming back for you. I swear.”

When Stiles turns his head to face Scott, he can read Stiles’s emotions clear in his eyes. Their faces are so close, their breath is mingling as they breathe in and out. Scott catches himself before he glances down at Stiles’s lips, but just barely.

He’s about to say something, so close to telling Stiles that he thinks he’s beginning to feel something for him, when Stiles says, “I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve.”

His eyes widens and Scott knows that that Stiles never meant to say that, probably meant to take that to his grave. He knows that that was the missing puzzle piece to what Stiles is afraid of: Scott finding out how he feels and leaving him.

But the fear is unfounded, and Scott doesn’t even think twice before he reaches a hand out to touch Stiles’s cheek and moves toward him enough to press his lips to his. Stiles responds, kissing him back almost feverishly, as if afraid that if he doesn’t take advantage now, he’ll never get the chance again.

Scott slows the kiss as best he can, softly stroking the pad of his thumb across Stiles’s cheek. Something settles in his chest that he didn’t know was even unsettled. He pulls back just enough to whisper, again, “I’m not leaving you,” and Stiles makes a wounded noise before pushing back against Scott.

Stiles is the one to actually pull back in the end, breathing almost erratic. His eyes are still wide, like he can’t fully believe what just happened. Scott doesn’t stop stroking his cheek.

Stiles doesn’t say anything, taking instead to just staring at Scott, his expression akin to wonderment. So Scott says, “Since you were twelve, huh?” if only to see the small flush it brings to Stiles’s cheeks.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “That was not a part of my big confession plan.”

“You had a confession plan?”

Stiles shrugs as best he can lying down. “More or less,” he says. “I don’t think I ever planned to go through with it though.”

“Why?”

Stiles avoids his eyes, meaning he’s going to say something that he knows Scott will disagree with. But, “You’re Scott McCall,” is all Stiles says.

“Yeah,” Scott says slowly. “And you’re Stiles Stilinski.”

Stiles lets out a puff of air. “You’re like this savior, holy type. You go for the good, pure ones. Not.” He pauses. “Not me, not the broken ones.”

“You’re not broken, Stiles,” Scott says firmly. Stiles rolls his eyes. “I’m serious. You’re not. You’re strong. You might have been hit again and again, but you’re not broken. You’re holding it together even though it’s okay to fall apart.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything for a long while. But eventually he clears his throat and says, “You can’t just say stuff like that, people will think you’re in love with me or something.”

When Scott rolls his eyes, Stiles smiles. Leans forward to quickly kiss Scott again. “Scott McCall is in love with me,” Stiles says. He says it like he’s amazed and Scott know he’s only kind of-sort of teasing.

“Stiles Stilinski is in love with me,” he says in retaliation, himself amazed at the feeling that blooms in his chest.

Stiles grabs the back of Scott’s neck and pulls him even closer than they already are. “Shut up and kiss me,” he says.

Scott knows that they still probably have some more things to talk about, more feelings to analyze and their futures to really plan. But Scott decides to turn all that off and listen to Stiles, decides to take this small steps at a time.

Smiling, Scott does just that.

**Author's Note:**

>   * this takes place idk some point after season 5 i guess?? i never finished season 5, i got as far as the sciles make up episode so 
>   * this was mainly inspired by stiles’s line: “oh, i’m well aware of how you all monitor my emotional state”
>   * stiles has abandonment issues, hence the repeated “i’m not leaving you”
>   * honestly, i almost scrapped this back near thanksgiving because i got all insecure and i wanted to change it from emotionally hurt!stiles to physically hurt!stiles, but then i couldn't think of a new plotline and i was, like, already 3k invested in this one
>   * i’m sure i forgot tags to include because i usually do
>   * find me on tumblr @ [fosterjensen](http://fosterjensen.tumblr.com/)
> 



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